


Where the Magic Happens

by iceprinceofbelair



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Theatre, Director Viktor, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Sexual Tension, Stage Manager Yuuri, viktor is a diva, yuuri is lowkey turned on by arguments with viktor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-17
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-10-06 20:44:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10344213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iceprinceofbelair/pseuds/iceprinceofbelair
Summary: Yuuri has worked as a stage manager in NYC for years and he's never worked with a director as arrogant and stuck-up as Viktor Nikiforov.





	

“I brought you katsudon,” is how Phichit greets him when he arrives home from rehearsal and Yuuri is immediately suspicious.

“What do you want?”

Phichit puts a hand to his heart, schooling his feature into an affronted expression. “I can’t believe my best friend thinks so little of me. Can’t I do nice things for you without an ulterior motive?”

“No,” Yuuri says simply. When Phichit continues to look offended, Yuuri quips, “has anybody ever told you that you should be an actor?”

This time, Phichit’s offended expression is only half put-on. “I’ve asked you time and again not to blaspheme in my home.”

Yuuri rolls his eyes. “ _Our_ home, Phichit,” he says, accepting the plate of takeaway katsudon Phichit is handing him. He can’t say it looks particularly appetising when comparing to his mother’s home-cooked dish but it’s not easy to come by good katsudon in the middle of NYC so Yuuri supposes it’ll have to do.

Phichit settles on the couch next to him, sipping a carton of apple juice. His purple lever-arch file is, as always, tucked snugly under his arm. Yuuri can just make out ‘ _to love’_ which is the only part of the white label exposed.

 _In Regards to Love_ is the musical they’re currently working on. In his time as a stage manager, Yuuri has been forced to endure some fairly terrible musicals and he’s worked on Les Mis so many times that he has a classically conditioned rage response to hearing _Do You Hear the People Sing?_ but he has to admit that _In Regards to Love_ is one of the better ones. Funny script, catchy songs, decently written characters - all in all, it’s not bad.

Of course, Yuuri’s knowledge has largely been gleaned from watching a bootleg version of the Broadway show from many moons ago. As his DSM - Deputy Stage Manager or, as Phichit prefers, Deputy Super Man - Phichit has diligently attended every rehearsal with his purple binder and noted down every movement of the actors from point A to point B, every piece of choreography, every briefly-mentioned prop. It’s his job to keep the director’s vision consistent from day to day, to remind him that _actually_ his actor was supposed to enter from stage left and _yes_ he had already directed this scene out loud and not just in his head.

It’s a challenging job. Rehearsals at the moment typically last six hours overall with only one 45 minute break for lunch so Phichit is understandably exhausted by the time he gets home, religiously carrying his pristine purple binder.

(The backstage crew affectionately refer to Phichit’s binder as the Bible because it contains everything anybody could possibly need to know about anything.)

The job is made even more challenging when the director in question is as changeable and unpredictable as Viktor Nikiforov.

Yuuri has never met the man and only knows him by reputation and through Phichit’s recollections. From what he can gather, he’s picky and prone to changing an entire scene at the drop of a hat because it ‘feels stale’. Viktor’s reputation, however, Phichit has never disputed. Viktor is well-respected in NYC theatre circles for a very good reason - he’s good. He has vision and he knows how to bring it to life on stage. He knows how to get the best out of his actors, how to make them dance to the melody only he can hear.

In short, he’s very good at what he does. Unsurprising consider his training background in Russia and countless years of experience. Combine that with his young age of just 27? He was a force to be reckoned with in NYC.

Nobody knew why Viktor Nikiforov hadn’t made it to Broadway yet. Nobody, as far as Yuuri knew, had ever dared bring it up.

Yuuri shoves another forkful of rice into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. Phichit is definitely after something.

“So, what _do_ you want?” He asks again.

Phichit shoots him a cheeky grin. “Cover my rehearsal shift tomorrow?”

Yuuri groans. He has so much to be getting done for this performance already. He’s having trouble getting any agreement out of other nearby theatres about borrowing their props and they’re way behind on set construction because Viktor seems to have brought Sara a new idea every time Yuuri sees her.

“Slacking off, Chulanont?”

Phichit gasps dramatically. “Would I ever?” he asks but quickly says, “don’t answer that. I have a meeting with my academic advisor and she wants an outline.”

Yuuri nods. Phichit’s research masters in theatre production technology and management was finally starting to get serious. He was spending most of his free time gathering together the notes which would eventually form his dissertation. Yuuri takes pity on his friend and sighs.

“Fine,” he says, barely reacting when Phichit flings his arms around his shoulders with a squeal of thanks. “But don’t think for a moment that katsudon is going to cut it.”

Phichit’s brow furrows. “What do you want?”

“A video of you admitting I’m better organised than you.”

Phichit looks stunned and Yuuri bursts into laughter, eyeing Phichit’s meticulously organised Bible with sly delight. For a second, he thinks Phichit is going to refuse but he seems to consider his options and reluctantly agrees.

“I feel so played,” he says, bringing the back of his hand to his forehead. “I don’t know how I’ll go on.”

Yuuri smiles playfully. “I still think you could be an actor.”

“Again with the a-word, Yuuri. I can’t believe this; you come into my home-”

“ _Our home!”_

~

_Touch this and you die, Katsuki!_

Yuuri smiles down at the post-it note Phichit has stuck on the contact sheet in his Bible. Clearly he hasn’t forgotten the last time he let Yuuri borrow his DSM book only to find all the contact numbers had been changed to sex hotlines.

(Since this is likely the only chance he’ll get to so much as touch Phichit’s binder, Yuuri has already made his move and stuck an A4 size photo of himself edited with devil horns to the inside front cover. Hopefully it’ll make Phichit jump. Preferably in public but Yuuri isn’t picky.)

He’s early but he knows this is the right room so he shows himself in and settles himself on the low bench which runs along one wall and highly resembles the benches in his school gymnasium. He flips absently through the Bible as he waits for the actors to filter in, noting not for the first time in his life that Phichit’s handwriting is incredibly neat. He supposes the nature of the job necessitates it.

His spelling, however. Well, that’s just atrocious.

Yuuri sets about fixing small mistakes, rolling his eyes at the sarcastic comments Phichit has left himself along the way. He supposes he has to do _something_ to make the time pass faster when he’s stuck watching the same actors say the same lines over and over and over again all day every day.

Immersed in his work, Yuuri doesn’t notice the door opening until a voice interrupts his thoughts.

“You’re not Phichit.”

Yuuri looks up to find Viktor Nikiforov standing just inside the door, looking just as stunning as he ever does. Up until now, Yuuri has only seen photographs but he’s - unfairly - just as beautiful in real life. His Russian heritage is obvious in his pale skin and sharp cheekbones, the tracings of a Russian accent still lingering in his casual speech. When he’d been an actor - and hadn’t all directors once been actors? - Yuuri supposes he’d had to train himself out of it.

(A shame, Yuuri thinks.)

Viktor carries a grey and black checkered Louis Vuitton bag - naturally - over one shoulder and the bag rests gently against his left hip which is cocked deliberately to the side when he stands, eyeing Yuuri with an unreadable expression. His silver hair is flawlessly styled with a fringe that falls ruggedly over one eye but not in such a way that it obscures it. His pewter jeans hug his figure and compliment his looser fitting teal shirt. The sleeves are artfully rolled up to just below his elbows and a light brown trench coat hangs folded over his right arm.

Yuuri becomes acutely aware of his own baggy jeans and uniform t-shirt with _Cialdini Stage Crew_ printed in block white letters across his upper back. He feels his unbrushed hair tumble untamed around his ears and is thankful at least that he’d taken off his cardigan which currently hides his space-themed backpack.

Viktor Nikiforov isn’t a person, Yuuri realises. Viktor Nikiforov is an experience. He’s a silent thunderstorm and Yuuri finds himself unexpectedly starstruck.

 _Fuck, he’s hot,_ says an unhelpful voice in his head.

Yuuri clears his throat and stands, closing the distance between them. “No, Phichit couldn’t make it today,” he says, tucking the Bible under his arm and offering his hand. “I’m Yuuri, the stage manager.”

Viktor takes his hand and shakes it, expression never changing.

“I haven’t seen you at production meetings,” Viktor says and Yuuri isn’t certain if it’s meant to be an accusation.

“Phichit has been my representative thus far,” Yuuri confirms. “Typically, I find having the SM around at this point is unnecessary.”

Viktor raises an eyebrow. “And yet here you are,” he says sharply, striding past Yuuri and putting his bag and coat down on a chair without another word.

Yuuri is initially stunned but unsurprised. He’s worked with plenty of divas before. Clearly Viktor is no exception. Well, if that’s the case; no harm in having a little fun.

“Sorry,” Yuuri says pleasantly. “But I didn’t catch your name.”

Yuuri takes no small degree of pleasure in seeing Viktor Nikiforov momentarily speechless but he takes care not to let it show on his face.

After a moment, he says, “Viktor,” in a clipped, professionally polite tone which only confirms Yuuri’s suspicions.

Definitely a diva.

They settle into a tense silence until Mila and Christophe arrive with a gaggle of chorus girls who burst into fits of giggles any time Viktor spares them a second glance. Had Yuuri not already pegged Viktor for a diva in his own right, he might have rolled his eyes at him in solidarity. As it is, he can only roll his eyes to himself and return his full focus to his binder.

Yuuri continues his careful disinterest, eyes down, examining Phichit’s scenic breakdown with far more intensity than required, until finally Viktor claps his hands for attention and the room falls silent. Only then does Yuuri look up.

“We’ll be continuing with Act II today but first I want to run through the chorus numbers and get those harmonies up to scratch,” Viktor says, stopping to stare icily at a pair of chorus dancers are the back who are chatting instead of listening. When they look suitably sheepish, Viktor turns to where a bearded man is setting up a keyboard stand. “Yuuri, could you set up Emil’s keyboard so he can run a vocal warm-up?”

It’s phrased like a question but Yuuri doesn’t miss the biting tone to Viktor’s voice. Still, he’s determined to remain professional and offers a small smile with his nod of assent while he sets about untangling the wires for the keyboard, listening to Emil lead the room in what is clearly a well-practiced round of Frère Jaques. As they move into a chromatic scale exercise, Yuuri finishes fiddling with the keyboard and nearly jumps out of his skin when a loud funky beat starts blasting from its speakers.

He can’t help but let out a yelp of surprise, suddenly incapable of moving his limbs. Where is the off button? He feels anxiety start to build in his chest but all of a sudden it’s silent again and Viktor is glaring down at him, finger still resting on the volume control.

Though Yuuri wants to shy away, he holds his ground. Just who the hell does Viktor Nikiforov think he is?

“Yuuri, can I have word with you outside?” Viktor says calmly but his voice carries a dangerous tone which lets Yuuri know he’s probably about to be yelled at. Without taking his eyes off Yuuri, Viktor waves a hand behind him and instructs Emil to carry on before following Yuuri to the door.

“Sorry about that,” Yuuri aologises quickly before Viktor can start screaming at him. Viktor looks taken aback and Yuuri sees his chance to plough on. “It took me by surprise.”

Viktor blinks. “Tell me, Yuuri, a stage manager has to be reliable in the face of the unexpected, no?”

Yuuri winces. Well, he can see where this is going.

He notices that Viktor is actually waiting for an answer and gives a curt nod.

“Hm, yes, I thought so too,” Viktor say and his voice takes on a mocking lilt which Yuuri immediately decides he loathes. “I’m very good at what I do, Yuuri. Very good. I have a reputation to maintain and I’m not sure you’re going to be a good fit.”

Yuuri finds his confidence then, smirking. “Well, I suppose that’s a problem you’ll have to take up with Yakov. You’re not my boss, Nikiforov. Don’t think for a second that you scare me.”

Viktor holds his gaze but Yuuri can tell he’s surprised him. Good.

“Your divas are waiting,” Yuuri adds, turning on his heel and stalking back into the rehearsal room without a glance back.

~

By the time Yuuri gets home that evening, he’s steadfastly regretting his decision to go toe-to-toe with Viktor Nikiforov. Viktor is indeed a very good director, if a little animated. He has a tendency to explain himself using vague hand gestures and often acts out the parts himself to show his actors what he wants. Every time he tells Chris to “give it more…” and follows the sentence up with an indiscernible wave of his hands, Yuuri gives a pointed snicker.

But Viktor is more than simply a good director; he has mastered the art of the passive-aggressive conversation.

What would be a simple question if asked by anyone else turns to daggers on his lips. He shoots bullets with his consonants.

(If Yuuri is being honest with himself, he can’t help but admit that he finds it _incredibly_ attractive. But he isn’t. So he won’t.)

Phichit is playing Mario Kart 8 on the wii when Yuuri returns. He doesn’t pause it when Yuuri flops down on the couch beside him. He doesn’t pause it when Yuuri releases an exaggerated groan. He does pause it, however, when Yuuri gently tosses his Bible onto the floor. As he retrieves it, the look on his face suggests that Yuuri has just killed his hamster.

“I trusted you,” he hisses, stroking the binder protectively.

“How do you work with him, Phichit?” Yuuri whines, sinking back into the cushions and accepting the controller Phichit hands him as they start another race.

(God damn Rainbow Road. Yuuri hates Rainbow Road.)

“Viktor?” Phichit says. “He’s alright. A little stoic, I guess, but he’s quite nice really.”

Yuuri stares at Phichit with such incredulity that he misses the start of the race and poor Toad ends up spluttering in a cloud of smoke.

“We can’t possibly be talking about the same person,” Yuuri huffs. “He was self-righteous and rude.”

“Maybe you caught him on a bad day,” Phichit suggests, swearing under his breath as he plummets off the rainbow and into the vacuum of space.

Yuuri scowls.

(Rainbow Road doesn’t even make any sense, he thinks. Rainbows are caused by the sun reflecting off the water in the Earth’s atmosphere. There is no atmosphere in space so how is there a rainbow?)

“No matter what kind of mood I’m in, I don’t tell other people they’re bad at their jobs,” Yuuri grumbles, surprised when Phichit pauses the game. He looks over to find his best friend examining him closely. “Phichit?”

“What did he say to you?”

Yuuri sighs. “He just said I wasn’t going to be a good fit because he doesn’t think I’m good under pressure just because Emil’s keyboard started playing when I was setting it up and he took me outside and-”

“Breathe.”

Yuuri takes a breath. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Yuuri frowns. “Phichit…”

“Don’t even think it, Yuuri.”

“But, I mean, he’s had proper training and-”

“Yuuri, you are an excellent stage manager. You’re a leader. You know how to motivate your crew. Just because you didn’t go to some fancy theatre school doesn’t mean you’re any less deserving of your job than he is,” Phichit says and his tone certainly indicates that this is not up for discussion.

Yuuri does feel a little better for hearing it. “Thanks, Phichit.”

They continue with the level again - Phichit starts it when Yuuri isn’t paying attention and Yuuri therefore immediately falls off - and Yuuri tries to focus on the familiarity of the game instead of his encounter with Viktor Nikiforov.

Yuuri’s working demeanour doesn’t show it but sometimes he’s reminded that he didn’t come into this profession the same way people like Viktor did. He didn’t train at a high end theatre school. He’s never worked with anyone as famous as Viktor before. He doesn’t even have a university degree.

He got where he is now by volunteering his time until they finally paid him. He got where he is now by listening, by observing, by copying and learning as he went. He’s made mistakes, everything from switching on the wrong light to almost setting someone on fire. He’s made the theatre his life.

He doesn’t move in the same world as Viktor. Though right here and right now they’re working in the same theatre, on the same production, on the same stage - they don’t inhabit the same circles. Viktor gets his picture in magazines with taglines like _Next Hot Broadway Director?_ and _Nikiforov, Rising Star_ while Yuuri has to buy yet another pair of dungarees because he keeps getting paint all over them when he forgets they’re not his Painting Dungarees.

(Fuck Bowser and his fucking red shells.)

The insecurity Yuuri used to feel about his lack of formal education in theatre arts has been mostly stamped out after years in the industry. And Yuuri knows he’s damn good at his job. So he doesn’t know what it is about Viktor that makes him so easily feel like a sixteen year old with dreams all over again.

“Maybe it’s because he’s hot,” Yuuri mutters aloud. Phichit hums.

“Might be,” he agrees, unfazed by this statement. “He does have a really nice butt.”

(This is not a lie. Viktor does indeed have a really nice butt.)

(Who let Baby Peach drive a car anyway?)

(Phichit wins.)

~

Thankfully, Phichit takes up his DSM rehearsal duties again the following day and Yuuri is spared the agony of seeing Viktor again for a little while longer. He’s attending his first production meeting in a few days time, though, and he’ll have to face him there.

This is ridiculous. It’s not like he’s trying to avoid Viktor. Viktor isn’t the boss of him. Strictly speaking, he works for Celestino and, to a lesser extent, Yakov. He does _not_ work for Viktor bloody Nikiforov.

At the moment, however, he wishes he didn’t work for anyone at all because he really doesn’t want to ring another theatre to find out if they have a false baby grand piano they’re willing to lend him.

(If Yuuri had a penny for every strange prop he’s been asked to source over the years, he could afford to buy Phichit a new hamster.)

Yuuri makes sure to keep meticulous notes for Phichit to look over later. The budget is the most important part but Phichit also needs to know where the props are coming from, when they can be picked up, and who they’ve to be returned to when the production is over. They certainly don’t want to earn a reputation for not returning things they borrow. Celestino and his employees have an excellent record for returning props on time and in good condition which is more than Yuuri can say for some of the theatres who have borrowed their props over the years.

Yuuri’s mobile vibrates on the table beside him. He doesn’t recognise the number.

“Yuuri Katsuki.”

There’s silence for a moment and then, “Are you paying too much for your car insurance?”

Yuuri hangs up and blocks the number, feeling a tiny bit disappointed that it hadn’t been Viktor.

When Phichit gets home that evening, he comes bearing Chinese take out.

“Have I told you recently that I love you?” Yuuri asks, fetching plates so they can both settle on the couch to eat.

Phichit grins. “Well, it’s always nice to hear it again,” he says with a cheeky wink. Yuuri shoves him.

“Good rehearsal?” He asks, trying to keep his voice suitably disinterested. The last thing he needs is Phichit thinking he has any kind of special interest in Viktor or else he’ll never hear the end of it.

If Phichit finds anything more an Yuuri’s usual inquiry in the question, he doesn’t comment.

“Same as usual,” he shrugs, using his chopsticks to scoop half of the rice onto his plate before passing the rest to Yuuri. “Viktor seemed really distracted, though.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I don’t know. He just wasn’t himself.”

Yuuri snorts. “So you got some peace and quiet for a change?”

“Oh, no. Chris can be twice as loud as Viktor when he wants to be,” Phichit says with a laugh, pulling out his phone.

Yuuri groans. “Phichit, I’m hungry.”

“Come on, Yuuri!” Phichit says, offering his best pout. “I haven’t updated my Instagram in _forever._ People are going to think I’ve died.”

Yuuri rolls his eyes but poses for the picture anyway, making two peace signs under his chin and scrunching up eyes shut with a smile. Phichit shows him the photo and, with Yuuri’s approval, uploads it to Instagram.

“Did you sort out your piano problem?” Phichit asks and Yuuri shakes his head.

“Would you believe that nobody has the incredibly specific set piece Viktor requested?” He asks with perhaps more snark than is necessary. After all, part of his job is to source impossible things.

Phichit raises an eyebrow. “Tired?” He guesses.

“Exhausted,” Yuuri agrees, shoving more food into his mouth.

He’s just tired. That must be why he’s feeling so angry. It’s not that he’s letting Viktor get to him. There’s no way in hell he’s going to give Viktor the satisfaction of being right by letting his comments yesterday derail his focus. Yuuri will do his job and prove Viktor wrong and he’ll be satisfied with that.

So why does part of him want to challenge Viktor? Yuuri has never been unnecessarily confrontational but he suddenly finds himself wanting to get Viktor riled up. He wants to hear Viktor’s furious voice and see that icy stare directed at him again. He wants to shiver under his hands.

Yuuri shakes his head. He must be tired.

“Aw, everyone’s happy to see you again,” Phichit smiles, showing Yuuri his phone.

 **rosa.rosa.rosa** _Yuuri!!! <33 _  
**angry-thespian** _it’s yuuriiiiiiiiii!!!!!!!_  
**+guanghongji+** _ahh yuuri will we see u at the meeting on fri? miss u bud xox_  
**muggleliving** _looking good yuuri ;) we’ve missed you cutie ^0^_ _  
_ **heyitsella** you two would make a cute couple

Yuuri smiles at the last one. It’s not the first time he and Phichit have been told that but Yuuri doesn’t think either of them feel that way about each other. Though they do a lot of things that people would consider romantic - like sleeping in the same bed together when Yuuri’s anxiety is bad and buying each other little gifts on a whim - they’re not together. Yuuri loves Phichit, just not like that.

(He’d totally kill a man for him, though. That’s a mutual understanding between them.)

“Tell Guang Hong I’ll see him on Friday?” Yuuri says, making Phichit raise both eyebrows this time.

“I thought you were going to wait until the next one?” He says, surprised.

Yuuri thinks back to his conversation with Viktor. He had indeed said that having the stage manager around from the get go was unnecessary and Phichit certainly took notes detailed enough that there was no need for Yuuri’s presence. Still, he wanted to go.

(Not to see Viktor, of course.)

Yuuri nods. “I was but I should probably check in with Yakov,” he lies lamely and from Phichit’s expression it’s clear that he doesn’t believe a word of it.

Still he shrugs and doesn’t push. Yuuri is grateful for that because he doesn’t know how he’s explain his desire to see Viktor’s piercing blue eyes look him up and down with disdain.

~

The next few days pass in a similar manner. Yuuri’s phone is almost constantly at his ear and he has _finally_ managed to locate a false baby grand at a theatre about an hour’s drive from here. He arranged to pick it up closer to the time and marked the date in his diary before noting down the details for Phichit and sticking it on the fridge.

Over the years they’d been living and working together, they’d worked out a system. Phichit, though he trusted Yuuri, didn’t let anyone touch his Bible. Yuuri’s rehearsal takeover had been the exception to the rule. So Yuuri can’t update the props list for him. Instead, he notes down what he’s done that day on a piece of paper and sticks it on the fridge for Phichit to check when he gets home.

At first, they’d tried post-it notes on Phichit’s bedroom door but they’d kept falling off and Yuuri had grown anxious that they’d get lost and that Phichit wouldn’t have the information and then props wouldn’t get returned at it would all be because of him.

So, the fridge was a better option and, by the time Friday rolls around, Yuuri has been so productive that they’re running out of magnets.

Yuuri meets Phichit outside the meeting room.

“Ciao Ciao was asking after you,” Phichit says as they enter but he doesn’t get any further before Minami leaps up from the table and practically sprints over to them.

“Yuuri!” Minami grins, bouncing on his heels in excitement. “I was wondering when you’d be here. I saw on Instagram you were coming and-”

Yuuri tunes out Minami’s rambling to survey the room.

Yakov is seated at the head of the table with Viktor to his left. They’re conversing quietly in Russian. Yuuri ignores them.

Michele sits on Viktor’s other side with his sister Sara next to him who offers Yuuri a cheery smile and waves. Yuuri smiles back. He likes Sara. She’s sharp-witted and kind and reminds him of Phichit in a lot of ways which might explain why they get on so well. Michele looks quite put out at their familiarity and shoots Yuuri a glare which he steadfastly ignores.

Guang Hong and Leo are next. Guang Hong had shifted his seat closer to Leo’s and they have their heads together, looking at something on Leo’s phone and occasionally giggling. The last time Yuuri worked with the two of them, they’d been dancing around each other in an adorable but somewhat infuriating manner so it was nice to see them finally together.

Phichit and Yuuri take two seats on the corner at the opposite end of the table from Viktor. Yuuri sits next to Minami at his request.

It takes a few minutes more for everyone to filter in but soon enough most of the seats are filled.

Yuuri clicks his pen and quickly writes the date at the top of a fresh page in his notebook. Usually, the Assistant Stage Manager (or ASM) would be responsible for taking minutes but their budget isn’t big enough to hire one so the responsibility falls to Yuuri. Phichit has been filling in for him until now but they’re reaching the stage where Phichit has too much to contribute to the meeting to also be responsible for note taking.

He starts by taking attendance, starting with Yakov and working his way around the table.

 _Present_  
_Yakov Feltsman - production manager_  
_Viktor Nikiforov - asshole_  
_Michele Crispino - wardrobe_  
_Sara Crispino - set_  
_Guang Hong Ji - followspot_  
_Leo de la Inglesia - followspot_  
_Seung-gil Lee - lighting_  
_Minako Okukawa - choreography_  
_Phichit Chulanont - DSM_  
_Yuuri Katsuki - SM_  
_Kenjirou Minami - flies_  
_Georgi Popovich - make up_  
_Emil Nekola - musical director_ _  
_ _Otabek Altin - sound_

 _Apologies_  
_Yuri Plisetsky - flies_ _  
Celestino Cialdini - owner_

Yuuri finds himself smiling at the thought of Yurio sending his apologies. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard the prickly youngster apologise for anything in his life.

It’s with regret that Yuuri admits he’s written down all he can. There wasn’t any particular need for him to list each person’s positions - they’re all in Phichit’s binder, after all - but writing had kept him from staring at Viktor. Now, his eyes don’t want to be anywhere else.

Viktor is dressed differently to how he had been when Yuuri had first met him, this time in a tight-fitted white t-shirt and thin grey cardigan with the sleeves slightly rolled up, exposing his wrists. Yuuri can honestly say he’s never had an opinion about anyone’s wrists before but, for some reason, seeing Viktor’s just slightly exposed feels like a tease. He’s starting to understand why men in the 1800s went crazy over ankles.

Thankfully, Viktor doesn’t spare him a lick of attention.

(Though Yuuri almost wants him to.)

Yakov calls for attention, making the room fall silent.

“Thank you for coming,” Yakov says, gruff as ever, as he takes out a sheaf of paper and takes the top sheet before passing the pile on. “Everyone take an agenda and we’ll start with general notes.”

He nods to Viktor who says, “First stumble through will be next Wednesday night at 7. Crew attendance would be appreciated.”

Yakov nods. “Celestino has confirmed our main theatre booking from then onwards. Confirm your attendance with Phichit after the meeting.”

Viktor looks straight at Yuuri then and says, “And Yuuri if you could bring whatever props are currently available.”

Viktor’s tone is pleasant and professional but Yuuri recognises the same disdainful undertones to his expression that he’d noticed at rehearsal. He tries to ignore it. If Viktor wants to be a child about this, that’s on him. So, he simply nods and keeps writing.

(He doesn’t see Viktor’s eyes narrow.)

“I’ve got a potential promotional shoot on Sunday the 19th with the New Yorker,” he says casually, looking up and delighting in Viktor’s look of shock. He looks to Michele. “Basic costumes would be helpful if you can source them for the three main parts?”

Michele, looking equally as flustered as Viktor, quickly agrees.

“Good job, Yuuri,” Yakov grunts and then it’s Yuuri’s turn to be shocked. Yakov complimenting him? Yuuri has always said that pigs will fly but one glance out the window proves him wrong.

Yuuri barely has a chance to recover before they’re moving on to budget updates which Yuuri always finds tedious. He happily lets Phichit give theirs for him.

By the end of the meeting, Yuuri has a new list of things to do. Viktor has given him a new list of props to be sourced and Yuuri has made sure to jot down where he thinks he’ll be able to get them. Some of them will need to be specially made. Yuuri just hopes Viktor doesn’t expect him to have them all by Wednesday.

Yuuri finds himself chipping in occasionally but his primary function is note-taking. He takes care to make sure that every required task is assigned to someone.

 _PC to alter rehearsal schedule to include additional music rehearsals. Discuss further w/ EN._  
_Set building volunteers: KM, OA, SL, GHJ, LI._  
_OA to discuss band requirements with EN before next production meeting._ _  
_ VN to shut the fuck up.

His notes continue for almost two pages with several jabs at Viktor peppered throughout.

“Yuuri, any word on a tech rehearsal schedule?” Yakov asks.

Yuuri shares a look with Phichit. “Now that we have the theatre from Wednesday, we’re going to start working with set we have on Thursday. We’re planning five days of technical rehearsals in the run up since this is such a set-heavy show but the cast won’t be required for all of them.”

Yakov nods. “Alright, thank you, everyone. I’ll see you all next week but we’ll be starting at 1pm instead of our usual 2. Confirm your attendance at the stumble-through with Phichit on your way out. Dismissed.”

Yakov closes his notebook and that’s Yuuri’s cue to do the same. He puffs out his cheeks and stretches his fingers. They’d started to cramp a little towards the end. Perhaps that wouldn’t have been a problem had he not spent every lull in the conversation to write snarky remarks about Viktor but regardless it was worth it.

Despite the structured agenda of the meeting, Yuuri’s notes are all over the place. Things tend not to be brought up in quite the order they’re intended and Michele mentioning costumes leads to Seung-gil bringing up the lighting which leads to Otabek mentioning they need to hire in some additional subwoofers and it’s all a bit of a mess.

Still, this is why Yuuri prefers to take notes by hand so he can cross them out when he’s typing them up and make sure he hasn’t missed anything vital.

He leaves Phichit to his gathering crowd and escapes into the hallway to stretch his legs. Well, to stretch his legs _and_ so he doesn’t have to be in the same room as Viktor anymore. He’d felt Viktor’s eyes lingering on him throughout the meeting and had caught his eye unexpectedly several times which was, in short, very distracting. Yuuri didn’t know what it was about him that had Viktor Nikiforov so fixated with him but he knew it couldn’t be anything good.

“Yuuri,” Viktor’s voice comes from behind him and Yuuri feels a shiver shoot down his spine as he turns to face him.

“Viktor,” Yuuri greets cordially but there’s an angry bite to his voice which Viktor seems to draw out simply by being near him. Honestly, it frightens Yuuri how easy it is for Viktor to make him feel out of control. It shouldn’t be this easy. “Can I help you?”

Viktor doesn’t respond but his eyes trail painfully slowly up and down Yuuri’s whole body before settling back on his face with a cocky smirk. “Do you wear the same clothes every day, Yuuri? I suppose being behind the scenes makes it easier to get away with that sort of disregard.”

Yuuri is stunned.

“I don’t suppose you’d thrive in front of the press,” Viktor goes on, examining his manicured nails with a practiced bored expression. Yuuri thinks he should have stayed in acting. “Some people just aren’t made for it.”

Yuuri bristles. “I’d like to see you try your hand at my job, Nikiforov,” he snarls. “You wouldn’t last a day.”

Viktor laughs and it sounds cruel to Yuuri’s ears. “Oh, I think I could find it in myself to somehow handle a few phone calls and take notes at meetings. You’re a glorified secretary, Yuuri.”

In his heart, Yuuri knows Viktor is trying to rile him up. No director gets this far in the industry without understanding the role of the stage manager. No director worth his salt, anyway, and Viktor, though Yuuri is loath to admit it, is definitely worth his salt. This is cleverly designed taunting to make him lose his cool with Yakov nearby and Yuuri isn’t going to fall for it.

He’s not going to fall for it...but he is going to shoot back.

“Well, I certainly seem better able to handle stress,” Yuuri quips, casting his gaze over Viktor’s silver hair and clucking pityingly. “Are you sure you’ll still look good on magazine covers when your hair thins out?”

That’s it. That’s the kicker.

Viktor Nikiforov is stunned into silence and Yuuri, satisfied with himself, turns on his heel and leaves. He doesn’t wait for a response. He doesn’t wait for Phichit. But he feels Viktor’s eyes burning holes in his back as he saunters away.

**Author's Note:**

> so here is the theatre au that nobody asked for. i'm super excited for this.  
> please please comment and lemme know what you think! i've been working so hard on this omg omg


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